


Halloween

by sailor8t



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 15:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6475999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailor8t/pseuds/sailor8t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maura hosts a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halloween

**Author's Note:**

> All things Rizzoli and Isles belong to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro, and other entities. I'm altering their realities for fun, not profit, as I own nothing and have the credit report to prove it.

It was time, Maura decided, to have a party. She’d been in Boston for more than a year. She had friends. Halloween was an excellent excuse, and a costume party would be fun. The first part of planning was manipulating the on-call schedule so she, Jane, Frost, and Korsak would all be off on Saturday night and Sunday. The second was calling the party planner.

Halloween, one of her college dorm mates said, was the night to come as you aren’t. That left out a number of Maura’s favorite and simplest costumes, but the party planner had a huge catalogue of costumes for Maura to peruse. She kept the book out of Jane’s sight, wanting whatever she chose to be a surprise.

Although the planner did all the work, and the house looked spectacular, Maura was still nervous. What if no one came? What if they didn’t wear a costume? What if the party was awful?

Jane arrived first, decked out like a pirate. She looked rakish with an eye patch and fake scar, a stuffed parrot somehow perched on her shoulder.

“Where’s your costume?”

“I’ll put it on soon.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see. Want a beer?”

“When do I ever say no to beer?”

Maura laughed and pointed toward the sliding door to the patio. “Would you start the fire while you’re out there? I’m going to get dressed.”

Maura seemed to take forever. Jane started the fire, got a beer, and took a good look around the back yard. It was lit up, and there was a table of snack food and a tub full of apples floating in water. Jane chuckled. She heard the doorbell and went to get the door.

Korsak was next to arrive, in a Yogi Bear suit. His date was dressed like Boo-Boo and carried a picnic basket. Other cops showed up, including her brother, dressed like a hobo as he had every single year since he was old enough to go out and beg candy from the neighbors. Frost wore the ugliest velvet pimp suit she’d ever seen, complete with cape, walking stick, and huge feathered hat. “Did you get that from evidence?”

“Nope. It was my uncle’s.”

“I guess we should be glad you didn’t go into the family business.”

“Says the daughter of a plumber.”

“Get your pimp ass outta here before I have to bust you.”

“Aye aye,” Frost grinned, and headed inside.

Some of Maura’s friends came, too. Jane recognized the expensive costumes when she greeted them at the door. Her drink was long gone, and she wondered where her friend was.

“Thirsty?”

“Parched.”

Jane turned to take the plastic cup of beer Maura offered, but her hand never made it.

The only way she knew it was Maura was her voice and her eyes. Jane would never mistake Maura’s beautiful hazel eyes for another’s. “What are you?” Jane asked, wondering why her voice shook.

“Scheherazade.”

“Who?”

“The storyteller from Arabian Nights. Each night she told the king a bedtime story, stopping at a crucial point. It kept her alive.”

“You don’t tell stories.” Jane was finally able to take the cup from Maura.

“Don’t I?”

Jane was glad she hadn’t taken a drink yet, since she was certain she would have spit it all over Maura’s flowing layers of something not quite see-through. “What stories do you tell?”

“The same ones you do, the stories of the dead.”

Their eyes held until the doorbell rang again.

“Excuse me,” Maura said, and opened the door.

For a moment, Jane saw Maura’s back. Her costume was completely open to the waist. She wasn’t really surprised to see the ripple of muscle every time Maura moved, having seen her move dead bodies with relative ease. She was surprisingly sexy, and watching her sent a charge through Jane. Jane closed her eyes and drained her beer, and took one more look before she made her way back to the patio. Her brother was hanging around the keg, and filled her cup.

“You should go for it, Janie,” Frankie advised.

“What?” she squawked, and glared at the people who turned to see what was happening.

“Maura. I mean, c’mon, she’s beautiful and smart and even Ma likes her.”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Jane hissed, and drank half the cup.

“Don’t make me spell it out. I don’t want you to hit me.”

“Frankie,” Jane threatened.

“Look, I’ve known you my whole life, and she knows you better than I ever will.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a dumb boy.”

“Be happy for once.” Frankie topped off her cup.

He hit a nerve with that. She hadn’t been happy since she went down into that basement. More than once, Jane wondered if part of her wasn’t still there. She did everything she did before, but none of it felt comfortable until Maura.

“Dumbass,” Jane muttered, and walked away. She stopped at the bar and got Maura a glass of red wine and a straw so the veils wouldn’t be moved or messed up.

“Thank you. And a straw! You thought of everything.”

“You’re welcome.” Jane put her hand on Maura’s back. She’d been careful to carry Maura’s wine in her right hand so her fingers wouldn’t be ice cold. “I think I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful.” She didn’t need to see Maura’s mouth to see her smile.

“Thank you. You look every bit the swashbuckler.”

“What’s that?”

“The term comes from 16th century sword fighters, but has evolved through the years to mean a kind of chivalrous action hero. Indiana Jones or Jack Sparrow, for example.”

Jane frowned. “I was going for the whole, hand over your treasure or walk the plank thing.”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d be intimidated,” Maura offered and excused herself to answer the door again.

It was almost two before the last guests – Frankie and Korsak – were dumped into cabs. The cleanup crew was a blessing, and let Maura grab an open bottle of wine and join her friend on the patio.

“Good party,” Jane grinned.

“It was, wasn’t it? That’s the first time that ever happened.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No one ever relaxed at my other parties.”

“You just didn’t have the right friends.”

“I suppose.” Maura swallowed some wine and shivered. Her backless outfit wasn’t the best choice for late autumn in Boston.

Jane saw. “C’mere,” she instructed, and put her long legs on either side of the chaise lounge.

Maura didn’t hesitate to sit between Jane’s legs. Jane sat forward and wrapped her arms around Maura. “Better?”

“Oh yes. You’re always warm.”

“Now we get to the truth of why you always ask me to stay, Miss Cold Feet.”

Maura smiled and leaned her head back on Jane’s shoulder. She still wore the veils; they were similar to a mask, and used to that feeling, she paid them little mind. “I rather enjoy your company.”

“Even though I’m not your type.”

“I may have drawn a premature conclusion.”

“Or panicked,” Jane answered with amusement.

“Perhaps a little.”

“So what’ll you give me to not walk the plank?”

“A story,” Maura said with quiet confidence.

“A story,” Jane repeated doubtfully, remembering Maura’s earlier comment.

“A bedtime story or poem,” Maura clarified.

“I was thinkin’ more like a dance. The dance of however many veils it is you have there.”

“Three.”

“That doesn’t sound right, but ok,” Jane agreed.

“I haven’t said I’ll do it.”

“You will.” Jane separated enough to empty her cup again. She deliberately slowed down after her conversation with her brother, and was nearly sober, as was Maura. Jane wanted to remember all of this in the same detail that haunted her nightmares. Maybe this could push them away. She had them less frequently when she and Maura shared a bed. Maybe this chemistry between them was the tipping point in getting back her life. She hated the before and after of Hoyt, and wanted a new delineation, one that didn’t make her sit up sweaty and screaming. Or did, but for a completely different reason.

She set the empty cup on the patio and ran her hand down her pants to dry it. Then she pressed her strong thumbs on either side of Maura’s spine and went from the base of her skull to her waist and back up. Maura melted into her and didn’t object when Jane’s warm hands slid under her costume to caress her abdomen. She was relieved that Jane was finally making a move after holding back for what felt like forever. It was sweet, nothing like any man she’d been with, who would have immediately gone after her breasts.

“Better now?” Jane asked.

Maura, feeling the stiffness of Jane’s shirt on her back, answered, “No. Your shirt feels awful. Take it off.”

“I don’t have anything on under it. At least wait until they leave.” Jane began kissing at the upper left edge of Maura’s costume and slowly crossed her back, moved down a bit, and returned to the other side.

It was amazing. Maura, for once, couldn’t speak or think or do anything except feel Jane’s lips on her back, her hands still on her abdomen, the heat of Jane’s body everywhere they touched.

Eventually, they were alone.

“Take off your shirt,” Maura demanded again.

This time, Jane obeyed, and shucked the shirt, letting it fall behind her. She pulled Maura closer, and Maura sighed at the feeling of Jane’s breasts against her back. “Much better,” Maura approved, and Jane moved her hands to cup Maura’s breasts.

They felt just right in Jane’s hands, and the tips of her long fingers brushed near Maura’s nipples. She wondered for a second whether they should be talking about this. But talking was always so hard for both of them. Truth showed itself in action, like Maura turning her head to kiss her, and Jane turning to meet her.

“I’ll meet you in the bedroom after I lock up.”

“Deal.” Maura kissed her once more before getting up, Jane’s hands sliding along her skin until she moved from her reach. Maura stopped in the bathroom and brushed her teeth.

When Jane arrived, Maura was waiting. “I don’t have any music.”

“That’s all right.” Jane put her gun in the nightstand and sat on the bed. She had her shirt on but unbuttoned, and retrieved her hat, but the parrot, scar, and eye patch were thankfully gone.

The air between them grew more charged until Maura began to move. She was graceful but somehow not in the way only Maura could pull off. Jane leaned back on her hands and watched. Maura finally tore away one of the veils and dropped it on the floor. She moved two steps closer to Jane and repeated her movements. When she moved closer again, Jane reached out and caught her hand, and pulled Maura into her lap. She removed the veil and touched Maura’s face gently before kissing her.

Maura was soft and hot and sweet, tasting of wine and toothpaste. When that wore off, Jane got to Maura, and that was even better. She tasted like wine and spices and something Jane couldn’t yet identify.

Maura felt like she connected with a volcano. Jane was all heat, fingers on her back and tongue in her mouth. She pushed the awful shirt off Jane’s shoulders, and finally got it off of her. Maura reached to her neck and unfastened the loop that held her top up.

Jane’s mouth followed the fabric, but got sidetracked at Maura’s nipple. Maura pulled her up, and they kissed again. Somehow, they got the rest of their clothes off, and immediately after just looked at each other. It wasn’t forbidden any longer, the long expanses of flesh and muscle that Maura would sometimes catalogue. Now she could finish, and begin again with her tongue. She wasn’t sure how long that would take, but longed to find out.

Hours later, a brief break to use the bathroom and get a drink, and right back to what they’d been doing, and continued doing for most of the morning, until they just couldn’t any more, and lay side by side on their backs, finally catching their breath.

Halloween, Jane decided, officially replaced Christmas as the best holiday ever. She’d thank Frankie at dinner tonight. Angela still expected them, both of them, no matter what, for Sunday dinner.

Maura rolled over and into her, and Jane put her arm around her. Maura fit. Against her body, in her life, in her job, in her family. It was a new idea and somehow not at all scary to know Maura was the last person she’d ever kiss.

“Be happy for once,” Frankie told her. Lots of people told her that lately. The shrink she couldn’t shake loose, with her provisional reports; her mother, in her usual straightforward way; Frost, who coolly assessed situations right after he puked at the edge of a crime scene. Korsak, who still could not understand why Jane couldn’t be his partner. Even Maura, who occasionally told her the world’s lamest jokes in an effort to make Jane laugh.

“What are you thinking?” Maura asked.

“How happy I am and what a big part of that you are.”

Maura’s eyes went wide for a moment before silent tears began.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Jane immediately swiped Maura’s cheeks and tried to figure out how what she said led to tears.

“I’m happy, too,” Maura reassured her. She was. It was becoming familiar. The living were still a puzzle, even Jane, who she studied more than anyone else. Emotion was becoming familiar, too, but Jane had a way of overwhelming her, and she was too tired to hide anything right now. She smiled at Jane. “We should get some rest.”

“I can stay, right?”

“Yes.” Maura slid closer and put her arm across Jane. “As long as you want.”

-30-


End file.
